Almost
by fowl68
Summary: It's a relationship made of almosts and unspoken apolpogies that aren't needed. Sort-of slash if you look at it tilted. SasuNaru friendship mostly


**Disclaimer:** Don't own! The song is Shadows and Regrets by Yellowcard.

**Author's Note:** Just tried the potter's wheel for the first time today. Difficult as hell, but I had fun. 'Course, my business clothes got all clayed up, but that's alright. State mandated test tomorrow (wooo….not)

Alright, gonna try Sasuke's POV, not something I've done for any particularly long stretch of time before.

-~-~-~-~

_The essence of true friendship is to make allowance for another's little lapses. ~David Storey_

~-~-~-~-~

_I'm back, back in town  
and everything has changed_

He wants to keep his shoulders hunched and not meet anyone's eyes, because honestly, he doesn't think he deserves to be back. He wants to sidle into the shadows created by the afternoon sun, wants to be anywhere but in the heat because he's become unaccustomed to it these past four years and it's uncomfortable to feel the itch of the sun on his skin once more, though it's not entirely unwelcome.

He doesn't do any of these things. He walks not a half a step behind Naruto (can't walk beside because he doesn't have that right anymore; he walked _away _from all this dammit) and keeps his head high, shoulders stiff because he's an Uchiha and Uchihas don't do the demeaning things he wishes he could.

He doesn't think he recognizes anyone, not that he's looking for anyone in particular. The only person he would have looked for was walking directly in front of him; unforgettable in his loudsoft colors and bright smiles.

The restaurant that he remembered frequenting with his parents is gone. It's a little teashop now, with the gentle smell of herbs wafting from it. The grocery store has been repainted and cleaned to the point where he hardly recognizes it.

And there's the voice in the back of his mind screaming that he doesn't belong in this bright world with its little shadows and big smiles, that this isn't the village he left.

_  
I feel, feel let down  
The faces stay the same  
I see, see shadows  
Of who we used to be  
When I drive, drive so slow  
Through this memory  
_

Tsunade wasn't surprised to see either of them, but the part that he found that he appreciated more was that there was no accusatory tone in her voice, no suspicious look in her eyes. He's not sure he deserves even that much, but he appreciates it just the same.

Naruto is falling into step beside him (or was did he lengthen his stride to keep up with Naruto?) and he wonders when it became so natural for the blonde to know when not to say anything.

Naruto hasn't changed. No, that's a roundabout lie. He hasn't changed, but he's been altered. As though the sculptor who had first thought to make the person known as Uzumaki Naruto had pushed the clay of his cheeks a bit higher, making his cheeks a little less round and his cheekbones a little more prominent. The whiskers are there, as dark as ever, his skin sun-bronzed.

You can remember him as he was; a blur of color with startlingly blue eyes and impossibly bright hair. He was shorter than you then. That is no longer the case, though there is less than an inch of difference in your heights. Your mind doesn't recognize the brightdark young man in front of you as the boy you knew.

Sakura is greeting you, but there's a difference, a maturity that wasn't there before. She moves with a calm purpose and there's a line of her face that wasn't there before, the one you used to identify mostly with your mother because that was the only person you knew back then who had the woman's curve of the cheek.

She hugs you and you don't entirely know what to do. Your hand half raises and pats her a little on the shoulder because some part of you in the last four years thinks that maybe she deserved to be treated a little better. Her arms are muscular in the way that a dancer's was—slim and slender. And they're rougher with scars and you can't smell that lotion that she always used to use to keep her skin soft.

_  
When we were only kids  
And we were best of friends  
And we hoped for the best  
And let go of the rest  
_

By an unspoken agreement, you're staying in Naruto's apartment. It's not a problem. You were both mature(er) and it wasn't the first time you would have slept in the same space. Naruto offers you the bed, but you shake your head and take the couch because one of the few times you can remember staying the night here (it was in the middle of autumn, when the nightmare could become terrible and they were both lost in the maelstrom that was the village) it was squishy and one of the springs would poke your foot occasionally during the night, but it was comfortable.

But the couch has become too small. Or rather, you've grown too tall. You have to tuck your feet up and your shoulders are a little too broad to comfortably be able to sleep on the couch. That one spring that used to only bother your foot is at your knee now and it's irritating, but you think Naruto might glare at you if you break his couch.

Naruto doesn't say anything when you almost-gently nudge him to one side and crawl beneath the soft blankets that smell of ramen and the outside and, very faintly, of cherry blossoms.

You've always woken earlier than the blonde and the wooden floors are cold beneath your bare feet. It's far too early for breakfast, the rare times that you were in the mood for it. You study the photos on the walls, on any available shelf room. There's one photo of all of their friends in their chuunin vests, though you had noticed that Naruto didn't have one.

There's one of Kakashi and Jiraiya, one that both of them must not have realized was being taken because they were both looking over with an arched eyebrow, feet up on the coffe table with a bottle of sake sitting between them.

Sakura is dressed in a lovely kimono of dusty reds and pale golds, her hair in an elegant twist. The other kunoichi are beside her; Hinata in soft blues and vibrant violets and Ino in gentle greens. Tenten was looking decidedly annoyed, but there was a smile on her lips. She was garbed almost entirely in white save for the pastel wash of a dragon, her dark hair curling down her shoulders. There was one face you hadn't been expecting to see and it was the Suna girl, Temari, in forest greens and auburns.

You wonder if Naruto has become that good of a shinobi that you can't hear him padding towards you or that you're simply that accustomed to him. He doesn't say anything, just (almost) leans into you so that your shoulders are (nearly) touching.

_  
I heard, heard myself  
Say things I'd take back_

You never quite apologize to either of your (ex?)teammates about the things (horrible, terrible things) you've said to them. You like to think that Naruto understands it when you both make the deal that he would do dishes if you cooked dinner. It's become second nature to say 'our kitchen', 'our couch' and at first the words feel odd in your mouth because it's been a long time (almost feels like an eternity) since you had an 'our' anything.

Sakura might understand it when you don't automatically flinch away from her almost-casual hugs (almost because she doesn't quite know how to hold you now, because you're too tall and angular). Might understand when you agree to go on walks through the rambling paths throughout the village.

_  
If I could, could retell  
And make these stories last  
I see, see shadows  
Of who we'll always be  
And I drive, drive these roads  
That made our memories  
_

It's almost (almost) as though they'd slipped through the sands of the time back to where they kind of began. They're sitting beside the river because it is far too hot and they all have the day off. Sakura had shrieked with laughter when Naruto had hoisted her up and tossed her in the river. The pale blue tank top is almost see-through and her shorts are sticking close to her thighs. She'd tugged on Naruto's ankle, pulling him down with her and somehow, they both manage to get you entirely soaked without ever setting foot in the water.

She sometimes looks at you like you're a stranger, though she's not been the only one since you came back. Itachi taught you honor and Naruto's taught you passion, but Sakura is having you (slowly) relearning the little things like gentleness and it makes your skin itch, like it doesn't fit quite right. You find that you can't interact with her often, because, in her own way, she is as perceptive as Naruto.

_  
When we were only kids  
And we were best of friends  
And we hoped for the best  
And let go of the rest_

Naruto steals the pillows and takes up way too much room. You can handle all this because it's what he's always done and his nightmares have become scarcer and you never asked him why, although for the first few weeks, he looks at you like he's afraid you'll fade like shadows do in the presence of the sun.

Naruto sometimes gets too close in his sleep and you can sometimes hear his heartbeat in the quiet. You hate the sound because it's off-rhythm, because it echoes just a little; an ever present reminder of when his heart stopped and those electric blue (like lightning through a too-big, too-welcoming heart that didn't deserve it) eyes had dulled when you (almost) killed him once and his heart stopped for a breath.

But he doesn't stop talking in the mornings, speaking of whatever dream he had that night or whatever thoughts happen into his head. You appreciate it because you spent far too many mornings in absolute silence because there'd been no one else home and your radio was broken (shattered like a mirror).

_  
Shadows and regrets  
Let go of the rest_

Everything has changed  
Faces stay the same  
Everything has changed  
Faces stay the same  


Kakashi stops by occasionally. You try not to notice that it's when Naruto has a mission (because you're not trusted yet, even if they let you back) and he doesn't say much, though you offer him some toast and eggs. But he leans on the counter and remarks on the day or whatever he happens to see as he glances through the newspaper that Naruto hasn't taken the subscription out of from when he would scour the paper for news of his missing best friend.

He ruffles your hair before you leave and you glare, but some part of you is glad that he hasn't changed. Like Naruto and (un)like the rest of the village.

_  
When we were only kids  
And our time couldn't end  
And how tall did we stand?  
With the world in our hands  
_

The others of your generation don't show their wariness around you as easily as the rest of the village. Gaara sits directly across from you on that long table that Chouji had found and he simply nods his welcome. Shikamaru is lanky and tall and you almost mistake him for someone else with the cigarette wobbling between his lips and the chuunin vest settled comfortably on his shoulders.

The atmosphere is almost tense and every time that feel a little claustrophobic because you simply are not accustomed to this many people, Naruto will be right offering you some of his food and Sakura will be leaning towards Ino (and away from you) and it's a little easier to breathe.

_  
And we were only kids  
And we were best of friends  
And we hoped for the best  
And let go of the rest  
_

You've all changed (altered, shifted, not yourselves, but are) and Naruto is as disguised as you've ever seen him, but he's always (never) been better at disguises than you. His way is different. He's threaded with sunshine and smiles, with the grace that he (almost) never had and he's still careless, still clumsy when nothing is serious. He charms people without realizing that he's doing it; his secrets are shared rather than hidden away.

Sakura keeps her hair in a tail now and her skirts are too short sometimes and you notice the pale spidersilk scars of missions that you don't want to know where they came from because you know that if you do learn who hurt her enough that a skilled medic like her couldn't forgo the scar tissue, you might kill someone.

You've become accustomed to running (from the darkness, from the blood streaking wooden floors and white snake faces) and Konoha is like suddenly just feeling like you can't run anymore. The pace is slower here, something that you hadn't noticed your first thirteen years of life here.

Naruto helps you slow down, as odd sounding that thought is. He lets you remember lazy hours, easy days when he'll tug you to the Academy and you'll see who Naruto tells you is Asuma's kid running and playing with the other kids. It seemed far too long ago since that (might) have been you.

The blonde never says anything when you're woken in the midnight, sweat-soaked and thrashing because you're seeing blood-painted familiar faces in the thunderstorm (electricity crackling and surging and it's too strong and you almost can't control it). He'll slip out of the bed and bring you a mug of tea and sit beside you. You're not sure if he goes to sleep after that; you're exhausted and the tea puts you to sleep, as he must have known it would. You wonder occasionally if he drugs it, but nightmares are worse in a drugged sleep and you can't remember dreaming on those nights.

All you know is that when you wake up in the morning, Naruto's heating up his ramen and there's two slightly too-crispy toasts (no butter or jam) sitting on a plate by the tea bags. And you think that of all the places to end up, Konoha wasn't so bad.

_  
Shadows and regrets  
We let go of the rest  
Shadows and Regrets  
We let go of the rest_


End file.
